Sovay and Senontipiacefalostesso
by passami-un-fiammifero
Summary: What happens when two demigod idiots share music with each other? Duels, drag queens, and drunken Indian food runs, of course! Rated T for language and some sexual themes.
1. 1991

**Featured song: "1991" by Azealia Banks **

** watch?v=0oM_9ca8hxE**

**Enjoy~~**

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><p>It was the second day of Nico's imprisonment–sorry, <em>hospital stay<em>–and he was starting to get bored.

The first day wasn't too terrible. Lou Ellen, surprisingly, showed up with an armful of books and a jovial expression. She presented him with a pair of graphic novels, and Nico, moody demeanor notwithstanding, graciously accepted. The dizzying combination of Underworld-y fatigue and dyslexia made reading two Scott Pilgrim books an all-day task; indeed, he was amused all afternoon and well into the night. However, they were definitely not three-days-of-bedrest books; it was only eleven o'clock in the morning on the second day and Nico was contemplating taking a nap out of boredom. The room he sat in was strapped for entertainment: no television, no radio, not even a book. There was a laptop on the other side of the room, but Nico hadn't the faintest idea on how to use computers. Plus, he really didn't feel like meeting a bunch of bloodthirsty empousai at that particular moment. If using Hulu on the _Argo II_ had aggravated monsters, he could only imagine how they would react to him surfing the web in a camp brimming with delectable demigods. Sure, the border was well-guarded, but nevertheless... yikes.

Nico huffed and drew his knees up to his chest. He had a stack of spaghetti western films sitting on his dresser back at the Hades cabin. He had an enormous copy of "French For Dummies" lying underneath his bed. Hell, he had a torn sweatshirt he'd been meaning to mend for ages stuffed in the back of his closet. Activities of every kind lingered just outside the infirmary door, but if Nico so much as got up to take a piss, Solace would be on him like a fly. He was as pushy as he was cute.

The son of Hades blushed in spite of himself. Will Solace… Nico was kicking himself for not paying attention to him earlier. He didn't even know he was up until last year, when they battled the Titans side-by-side in New York. Well, in a sense. Nico didn't show up until the very last minute, and even then, Will was the head healer and Nico was in battle most of the time. After their victory, they had exchanged a few remarks and even a couple laughs, but Solace never really registered on his radar. To be fair, not much did; he had spent the last twelve months with tunnel vision, eyes trained on Percy Jackson.

He was so happy that he was finally getting over him. It was so exhausting trying to deal with those emotions all the time. He felt like his sight was slowly but surely clearing up.

Which made him smile, but also cringe. Clear sight meant a) realizing how fucking _stupid _he was for liking that idiot, and b) realizing what a fucking _asshole_ he had been to everyone–especially Will Solace.

This wasn't a difficult leap. Like his annoying dentist always said: "Hindsight is 20/20." Of course, he was usually talking about the absurd amount of cavities in Nico's mouth and how he would regret not brushing regularly (he flossed every morning), but the philosophy was applicable to his relationship with Will Solace.

On those rare occasions when he dropped by Camp Half-Blood for a place to sleep or news on Percy's disappearance, Will always found time to say "hi" or to ask Nico how he was doing. It didn't matter if he was balls-deep in sheet music or in the midst of repairing a broken arm; he always managed to throw a greeting his way. The most Nico could manage was a guarded "hello" or a shrug of the shoulders.

Once, Nico accidentally shadow-traveled to the middle of the dining pavilion at dinnertime and promptly passed out. Will Solace not only had him carried to the Big House, but somehow persuaded Mr. D to let him spend the night in the infirmary. It was probably the nicest thing anyone had done for him since Bianca died. But when Nico woke that morning, did he scribble out a quick note of gratitude? Did he stop him in the commons to thank him and his siblings for looking out for his sorry ass? Did he even acknowledge this kind gesture? Of course he didn't. He gave Will the barest of nods on his way out the door, then jetted off to follow a new lead on Percy's whereabouts. Stupid.

Ugh. The guilt he felt going through those memories washed over him waves. He was now considering adding "huge dickhead" to his rather short list of accomplishments. Nico didn't know much about anything, but he did know that Will Solace had every right to hate his guts.

Thing is, Will didn't. Sure, Nico's first day was full of stern glares and passive-aggressive mutters, but that was probably due to the fact that Nico was on the brink of evaporating. Besides, he couldn't stay mad; the kid was like a fucking golden retriever when it came to holding grudges (a.k.a the complete opposite of Nico). As a matter of fact, he ended up skipping the campfire just so he could hear about the documentary Nico just finished.

"When did you even have time to watch this?" Will was strapping a slightly dated blood pressure monitor to Nico's arm.

"Uh, well…" He studied Will's hands with a vague interest. They were callused, but gentle; nimble, but clinical. Kinda like their owner. "I didn't sleep too well on the _Argo II, _so I spent a lot of time watching late night television and documentaries. Leo insta–" His voice faltered to make room for the lump welling up in his throat. _Not now_. He swallowed and continued. "Uh, there was this huge television installed in Coach Hedge's room with like, Netflix and everything."

"Didn't he get mad at you?"

"No; he didn't seem to mind. As long as I kept it down." Solace was now pumping air into his medical arm floaty. Nico glanced down and watched it fill up. "What's this thing called?"

Will smirked and met his eyes, blue to black. "To you plebians, it's called a 'blood pressure thingy', but the actual, medical name for it is 'sphygmomanometer'."

"Huh?"

"'Sphygmomanometer'."

"Bless you."

"Shut up. What was the documentary about?"

"Orcas." Just mentioning the name washed him in a sense of awe and beauty–and pain, terrible pain. Despite all the hardships he had endured and all the wars he fought, Nico felt as though he could never even begin to comprehend the struggles the whales faced just by existing. They reminded him of demigods in that way.

"Like… killer whales?"

"No. Orcas."

Will jabbed a couple buttons on the monitor's controller. "I thought they were the same thing."

"They aren't." Orcas were majestic, emotionally intelligent ocean creatures. Killer whales were the poor demented creatures humans swam with at SeaWorld.

"Oh. Well, what about orcas?"

And with that gentle bit of coaxing, Nico flew forth into the tragedy that was the life of Tilikum, a psychologically disturbed orca forced to perform every week for thousands. As he ranted on about the horrific conditions the whales were given, he couldn't help but notice how attentive Will was. Even as the monitor began to beep ominously, he shut it off and pressed Nico for more. Eventually, he eased the armband off and sat back in his chair, listening to his patient recount the stories of trainer deaths and whale psychology. The summary of the film soon turned into a heated discussion of all the things wrong with the way people treated animals. Nico found that Will was especially passionate about protecting animals in the food industry. They swapped stories of big corporations shooting livestock with hormones and the importance of eating organic. They probably would have continued past lights-out if it weren't for Will's half-brother dropping in to remind him that his shift was over. Will bid him a good night by scribbling something on the inside cover of Lou Ellen's book.

"'Food, Inc.'?"

Will stood up and stretched. "It's a really great documentary on the food industry. You should check it out." With that, he smiled sleepily and walked out.

Nico spied the book on his nightstand and picked it up. He flipped to the page with the title of the documentary. Will Solace, head healer, had doctor handwriting. He slapped the book shut and laid it back on the nightstand. Eleven-fifteen a.m.

He spent the next four hours teetering on the edge of existence and trying to keep himself busy. He fell asleep and woke up several times. He pulled a long string of yarn off of his woven blanket and practiced making square knots while humming Green Day songs. Using a pencil, he wrote really shitty poems on the inside of _Scott Pilgrim's Precious Little Life_. Then he erased them because they made his head throb. He muttered conversations with himself about the price of bread and different kinds of animals in mediocre Italian. He launched into daydreams about being a swashbuckling pirate.

At four-eleven p.m, Nico's ass ached from sitting. He couldn't feel his legs. By then, he was more fearful of another minute in Infirmary Purgatory than the wrath of Will. He tossed the blankets off of him and willed his legs to drop onto the floor. The contact with the floor somehow made him feel seasick, which was _not _a fun feeling. He stumbled over to the doorway and peeked into the hallway. The coast appeared to be clear, but he had no idea where to go from there.

He looked left, then right, then left, then right–then shrugged and went left...

… and was almost immediately jumped by Will. Well, in the loosest sense of the word "jumped". What happened was that he shuffled about five feet down the hall before hearing footsteps. Will turned the corner with half a sandwich in his mouth and a stethoscope draped across his shoulders. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Nico, with a bedhead and a pair of wrinkled pajama pants, standing like a deer caught in headlights.

"Shit," Nico muttered.

"What are you doing out here?" Will said, somehow managing to scowl, chew, and look adorable all at the same time. Nico reddened.

"I was going to the bathroom."

He swallowed his mouthful. "There's a bathroom in the infirmary."

"I wanted to take a shower."

"There's a shower in the infirmary."

"Um… there was no shampoo."

"I put some on your dresser last night."

"Really?"

"Yup."

"Then there was no conditioner."

"It was a 2-in-1, stupid." Damn.

Nico scratched his head sheepishly. "Um. I heard a really loud noise outside and wanted to see what was going on?"

Will grinned. "Any other excuses?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, back to bed."

"Oh, come one! I haven't been outside in forever!"

Nurse Will made his reappearance. "Well, that's because you went Hades-crazy and shadow-traveled too much!" He shepherded a furious and diminutive Nico back into his room.

"Well, what else was I supposed to do? I had to get the statue back here!" The son of Hades gestured in the direction that hopefully went towards the enormous Athena Parthenos sitting on the hillside.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't have." Will sat down in the office chair and began to spin. "But that's like, super draining, both physically and mentally. And that's not good for you!"

"I'm fi–" He sneezed twice in quick succession. Nurse Will arched his eyebrows.

Nico scowled and sat on his bed. "I'm _bored_. Can't I go get some stuff from my cabin?"

Will gave him a Look. "Nico, you can barely walk ten yards without collapsing. You need to stay here."

"I'll be fine!"

"No. If you want, I could go get–"

He had no idea what he was trying to hide, but on the list of things that made him extremely uncomfortable, people going through his things was in the top ten. "No no no, don't do that. It's okay. Just–like–don't you guys have books, or a radio or something in here?"

Will spun towards the laptop computer and flipped it open. "We have Youtube. What do you want to watch?"

"Uh..."

"Oh my gods; queen!" Will tapped a couple keys and swung his legs excitedly.

"Huh?"

"It's nothing–well, actually, no, it's something." He turned to Nico. "Have you ever heard of Azealia Banks?"

The name was completely new to him. "Uh... no."

Will's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Oh my _gods_, you've never heard of Azealia Banks," he muttered.

"Is she like a... politician or something?"

"_Oh my gods__!_" Will Solace rolled over to Nico's bed, gripping the arms of his chair like he would fall off. "_You've never heard of Azealia Banks!"_

"I think we have established this, yeah."

"Holy Hendrix, hold on." Using the rails as a launchpad, he spun back to the desk. Will swiped the laptop lying on top of it and rolled back to Nico's bed. "I cannot believe you've never heard of her. She's the queen of the whole freaking world."

"I thought that was Hera?" he replied faintly, feeling as though he was wading through a swamp things he didn't quite understand.

Will shot him another Look. "She's a _rapper, _stupid! She's queen of the whole game."

"Oh." Now he _knew_ that he was wading through things he didn't understand. He only recently heard of rap from Reyna, who listened to Beyoncé religiously, but he hadn't actually _heard _it. Maybe it was more of a West Coast thing? "What game?"

Will stared at him as though he had asked him how one spelled "cat". "The _rap _game!"

"There's a game?"

"Yes, Nico. The rapping game. Jay-Z and Kendrick Lamar like to play Monopoly every Thursday night because their shared talent of slaying verses. Just watch!"

He scooted closer to the bed and set the laptop in front of Nico. A little... box was open, and was playing a film of sorts with a sparse beat. A couple seconds in, he saw a woman with magnificent hair and sunglasses sitting in a white room. He glanced at Will, who was bopping along in time to the beat.

Then the woman (whom he decided was Azealia) began to... talk. She talked very quickly (Nico could barely understand what she was saying) and in time to the... music? It was more of a percussion track with some weird marimba noise slapped on top. The video was weird. She danced around in a pair of baggy pants and a bra. Nico felt a little embarrassed watching it.

Will, however, seemed infatuated with the... song. He mouthed along to the lyrics and bobbed his head back and forth. Nico had no idea how he figured out what the woman was saying. He turned his attention back to the video. Azealia Something actually looked a lot like Hazel. Same skin color, same eye shape; even their hands were similar. He really hoped she didn't spend her free time rapping and dancing around in a bra. That would be hard to explain to their dad.

The video ended after Azealia did some really cool dance moves and messed around with a couple spyglasses. Will immediately asked for Nico's input.

"Isn't she amazing?"

"I... guess so. Why was she wearing goggles?"

Will shrugged. "Why not?"

He supposed he had seen stranger things. And they did actually look kinda cool. "It was really weird, but I liked it."

"That's what everyone says about her! She's so different from Nicki Minaj and,"–his face soured–"Igloo Australia, and all the other rappers in the world. She's such a bae."

He was still stuck on "Igloo Australia". "She's a what?"

Will stared at him with such intensity that Nico felt like he was staring at the sun itself. His blue eyes did not blink for nearly a full minute. Then he said, "Nico, you need help."

"Thanks," he grumbled.

"You know nothing about the 21st century and most of the 20th century, don't you?"

His face turned scarlet. "Well, no, not really, but–"

"Which means you know nothing about rap?"

"I know that there's a game involved."

Now he just looked sad. "Okay. Okay." He clicked off of the page with the box and onto a new page. He typed in "Sugarhill Gang". "Let's start at the beginning."

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><p><strong>You know those folks who worship the ground BeyoncéSolange/Laverne Cox/Lupita Nyong'O/FKA Twigs walk upon? I feel like Will is one of those people.**

**Anyways, I've a whole playlist devoted to Solangelo. I'm thinking maybe I should do one songfic a week? What do y'all think?**


	2. Femme Fatale

**Featured song: "Femme Fatale" by The Velvet Underground & Nico**

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><p>Will had to admit that there were a lot of cool things about being Apollo's kid. He could play almost any stringed instrument he could get his hands on, his siblings had great music taste, and he always managed to get a good spot at concerts. Also, his dad was an all-powerful god who controlled music, medicine, poetry, and the freaking sun. That was pretty cool.<p>

However, there were definite downsides. Like how they couldn't have normal alarm clocks. Instead, they were woken up every morning at 6 a.m by Maria's prodigious electric guitar shredding. Sure, she was hella talented, but Will's appreciation for that talent diminished significantly before sunrise. And unlike an alarm clock, Maria didn't have a snooze button.

Plus, their family was no Brady Bunch. His siblings tended to get into fights a lot, mostly over radio stations and who stole whose bow. It seemed like every week there was a new argument and a new debate. Will tried to keep the peace, but when one lived amongst angry demigods with very pointy weapons, keeping the peace was much more easily said than done.

And it didn't help that his dad wasn't the most involved parent in the world. In fact, he was more like a really conceited, really powerful older brother who never visited. The only time he had ever even spoken to Will was right after the Titan War, and that conversation… wasn't pretty. Gods were never the kind of beings to get involved in their kids' affairs, but he could at least send a freaking Christmas card or something.

But worst of all was the morning shift at the hospital. Will knew that the Apollo kids were the "doctor-y" kids at Camp Half-Blood; but, Beethoven's boxers, they weren't the only ones! There were only seventeen (two of which were under thirteen) healers for a camp of almost two hundred people (as well as the dozens upon dozens of dryads, satyrs, and naiads living on the premises). Sure, not everyone had vitakinetic powers and informal degrees in oncology, but it wasn't like Mr. D couldn't send a couple trained volunteers up to pass out bandaids and Clearasil. Will was really sick of having to get up at dark-thirty to prescribe acne cream to hysterical Aphrodite kids.

Unfortunately, the health of the campers was not one of Mr. D's priorities, so his pleas fell on deaf ears. It was thus that Will was up at 6:00 on a Monday morning to the tune of the Arctic Monkeys.

"Good morning, sunshine," Maria warbled, hair in a rat's nest.

Will glared at her and muttered, "Can't you play anything other than 'R U Mine'?"

"Nah."

He sighed and walked over to his half-sibling Ajaratu, who slept like a rock. "Aja, wake up."

She turned over and groaned. "No."

"Come on, Aja, it's our shift."

"Ugh." She blinked sleepily and yawned. "Good morning, brother."

"_Esama_, kiddo."

Will had seen some pretty incredible demigods, but he was quite certain that Ajaratu was the most amazing of them all. She was born in the Gambia in an impoverished and abusive household. Her mother, once a beautiful club singer, had soon delved into drinking and gambling. Ajaratu did whatever she could to keep her sisters fed, but both died when she was nine. When she finally made it to Camp Half-Blood, she was in for more adversity; she spoke no English and had no friends. However, she rapidly adjusted and, with her unique sense of humor and sweet demeanor, soon became the darling of camp. Will didn't pick favorites, but he was exceedingly fond of Aja.

Aja rolled her eyes. "You should not speak Mandinka. It does not suit you. And I am not a 'kiddo' anymore!"

"Oh, yeah? What are you, then? A lizard?"

"No."

"Thought so. You're too smart." He poked her nose. "Is it a boy day or a girl day?"

She gave it some thought, then decided: "Today, I am a boy."

"Alright, Amadou." That was the name he chose for his boy days. "Let's go, we don't wanna be late."

"Okay." Amadou kicked his covers off and sat up. Will grabbed his hospital clothes and went to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth.

Though they technically weren't allowed to have kitchen appliances in the cabins, some of the Hephaestus kids hooked them up with an illegal mini fridge and an illegal microwave in exchange for an enchanted trombone. (Nyssa refused to tell them why they needed a brass instrument.) They gobbled down some microwave popcorn and yogurt for breakfast, then bid farewell to those who were awake. As they walked across the misty lawn in their scrubs, Will started thinking about the Hephaestus kids again. Leo's death had stunned Will. He had shown that kid around camp. He had helped him out on the Argo. They once pulled a prank on the Demeter kids together. They weren't best friends, but his death had a profound effect on everyone, including him. Not to mention the _Argo __II _crew...

He recalled how upset Nico looked at the mere mention of his name the other day. Will hated seeing him like that. The last thing a traumatized child of Hades needed was the death of a close friend.

Amadou broke the sleepy silence. "I think I want to shave my head."

Will looked over at him. Seeing as Ama had Marley twists down to his waist, cutting his hair would be quite the change. "That's a little sudden."

"Yes, but I like the sudden." He fingered a twist that had come loose from his ponytail thoughtfully. "I think short hair would be more, ah, gender-neutral, yes?"

"I guess so."

"I am also very tired of people touching my hair."

Will laughed. "Oh gods. Remember that one time at the Guggenheim–"

"–in the elevator? Yes. That man was not nice."

Will had taken Amadou to one of New York's many art museums on his thirteenth birthday. While riding on the elevator, a man had randomly grabbed a handful of Amadou's twists and began to pick at them. Will had seen many people do that to his little brother on subways and sidewalks; he usually responded sternly, but politely. However, on that day, Amadou had enough. He whirled around and smacked him across the face. The stunned man cowered as Amadou shouted at him in four different languages about personal space and how white people like him had no respect for those of color. When he had finished, the shaken docent kindly asked them to leave. They spent the rest of the day walking around New York and eating ice cream.

"He was… ah…"

"Stupid? Dumb? Vaguely racist?"

"Annoying." Amadou mounted the Big House steps and pushed open the door. "What shall we play this morning?"

"Anything except the Velvet Underground."

"But they are my favorite!"

"We listen to them every morning!"

"That is because they are my favorite." Amadou smiled, showing his shining braces.

Will groaned. "Noooooo."

"Fine. We will listen to Frank Sinatra instead."

"Noooooo!"

"Then what will we listen to?"

"Um… I think Kat just bought Neutral Milk Hotel's _Aeroplane_ record."

"Is that the record with the moany man?"

Will laughed. "You mean Jeff Mangum? Yeah."

Amadou made a face. "Fine."

"I'll go get it."

Another trip through the fog and back. When he stepped through the front door of the healer's lounge, Amadou was administering an ice pack to Grover Underwood.

"Grover? What are you doing here so early?"

The satyr blushed and mumbled something about hitting his head on a tree branch.

"I do not think it is a concussion." Amadou wrapped it in a blue cloth and placed it on the side of his head. "Just ice it for a while."

"Thanks, Aja–" He faltered. "Is it a girl or boy day?"

"It is a boy day."

"Then thank you, Amadou."

"Thank you, Grover." Amadou smiled from ear-to-ear as he busied himself at the supply cabinet. "Do you have the music, Will?"

"Yup." There was an old turntable of Chiron's in the lounge that the Apollo kids used throughout the day. Will dropped the record onto the player and placed the needle.

The first few chords made Grover screw up his face. "Is this Neutral Milk Hotel?

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing, it's just… they're kind of moany."

Amadou laughed. "They are!"

Will was insulted. "Oh my gods, shut up! They're musical geniuses!"

"They use the exact same four chords for like, every song."

"So does Britney Spears!"

"She's not exactly a musical genius," Grover pointed out.

Will grabbed his stethoscope. "I can't hang with you uncultured heathens. Solace out."

"Bye!" Amadou called, and as he left, he heard him ask Grover what his thoughts were on The Velvet Underground.

He strolled down the hallway and ducked into the next room–the infirmary. It was usually empty at this time of day, but today, there was one occupant–Nico di Angelo. Will was astonished that he was actually doing the three days of bedrest he ordered. He struck him as a rebellious and surly person who probably had better things to do other than lie around. Sure, there were numerous times where he tried to sneak out, but other than that, he had stayed in bed for three whole days.

Which was vaguely funny, because Chiron said he only needed two days of bedrest, but Will didn't see much harm in adding one more. The kid had been through Tartarus and back. He needed round-the-clock care.

And, seeing how Will was, by far, the most qualified healer, he knew that it was his duty to be that round-the-clock care.

Which was the reason why he switched his volunteer times with Jameson, because while Jameson had immeasurable skill with the pen and the bow, he was mediocre at best when it came to medicine and caring for half-dead sons of Hades.

And the only reason.

Duh.

The bedside clock read twenty past seven. Nico himself was sprawled out on his bed, fast asleep, which was good to see. Will's grandma always told him, "Sleep cures all," and while he was certain Nana wasn't an expert in divine panacea, sleep did seem to improve the son of Hades' temper.

Nico's hair curled at the edges. Tyson had lent him a flannel nightshirt, which was way too big for his slight frame. He had to roll up the sleeves just so he could use his hands. He styled it with a pair of sweatpants and a scowl. It was hilarious and horribly endearing at the same time. Nico always had a rather intimidating aura, but as soon as you took away the Stygian iron sword and skull ring, he became the dorky fourteen-year-old kid with an adoration for whales and comic books. He was a teenager feigning adulthood; Will knew that as soon as he met di Angelo, mainly because he wasn't the only one like that. He'd met a lot of demigods who put up fronts in order to protect their real selves. As a healer, Will learned to look past the carefully built masks to see the marred individual for who they really were. It was the only way to properly diagnose someone.

He hadn't picked up much from Nico–other than pain, and lots of it. Of course, that came with crawling out of Tartarus and draining the very essence of life from one's body. But he felt like he was sensing only an infinitesimal fraction of what Nico was feeling.

Will shook his head. Too many deep thoughts for 7:24 a.m. Time for work.

He checked Nico's vitals on the various monitors and recorded them in the Official Doctor Shit Notebook, aptly named by his half-sister, Kat. He did a couple spins in the office chair. He noodled around on the ukulele Austin left on the desk. He turned up the speaker in the room and belted out the lyrics to "Holland, 1945" with gusto. Finally, after Amadou peeked in and gave him a stern look, he settled down and began to fill out some mind-numbing godly insurance paperwork.

The Neutral Milk Hotel/Moany Man record had reached its end when Nico woke up. Will heard him tossing and turning for a few minutes, but nothing prepared him for the scream that wrenched itself from Nico's throat. Will nearly upended the desk in terror.

"Holy mother of–gods, are you okay?"

Nico was drenched in sweat. His eyes were like a wild animal's. He swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. Just–just a bad dream." He blinked and focused on Will. "Wait, why are you in here?"

"I'm doing paperwork."

"In a patient's room?"

"Well, you see, Nico, we don't exactly have funds coming out the wazoo, so we had to move the desk in here."

"What if a patient has to change?"

"Then they go to the bathroom," Will pointed his pencil at the door opposite him.

"What if a patient is paralyzed?"

"Then they're wheeled into the bathroom and receive assistance."

"What if–"

"–a patient is an annoying Underworld-y dork? We send them back to bed when they try to sneak out of the infirmary."

Nico raised his eyebrows. "I was going to ask what would be done if the patient was a bossy healer who liked rap music too much."

"Ex-cuse you? There is no such thing as liking rap music too much. And I thought you said you liked rap music!"

"I never said that!"

Will rolled over to Nico's bed, faking frustration. "You said you liked Azealia Banks!"

"Yeah, but I never said I liked _all_ rap music. I didn't like Iggy Azalea. Or Eminem."

"Well, they're racist trash, so they don't count."

"I didn't like Kendrick Lamar, either."

"Nico."

"What?"

"We can't be friends anymore."

He grinned. "We were friends?"

"Oh, don't act so surprised, you ninny."

"'Ninny'?"

"Do you want coffee? I think Amadou is making some."

He brightened. "Okay. Can I get up?"

Will studied him critically, then said slowly, "If you think you can."

"I can!" Nico leapt up… then promptly stumbled and fell on his butt.

Will tried his hardest not to laugh. "Do you want me to get a wheelchair, or…?"

His scowl returned as he shook the sleeves from his hands. Cutie. "No! I can do this."

He pushed himself off the floor and staggered out of the room, tripping over his pajama pants. Will followed him, giggling into his hand.

It was a short walk, but as soon as they got to the break room, Nico collapsed in the nearest armchair, panting. Amadou turned around, eyes full of concern.

"I heard a scream, but I thought that it was something in the woods. Is everything okay?"

He made eye contact with him and smiled. "Yeah, Ama, we're good."

Will grabbed the coffee pot and poured some into a mug.

"How do you take it?"

Nico rubbed his eyes. "Black, lots of sugar."

Will dumped a heaping teaspoon of sugar into the cup and stirred. "Amadou, do you have any, like, plain hot water?"

"No. I can heat some in the microwave."

"That would be lovely."

A minute later, he placed Nico's coffee and a steaming mug of earl grey on the table next to the shivering patient. "Are you cold? Do you need a blanket?"

He saw him take a deep breath and cease his trembling, like he was making a conscious effort to stop quaking. "I'm fine."

Will wasn't convinced. "Are you–" Amadou, at the coffee pot, silenced him with a look. "Okay."

He settled into the armchair with his legs tucked under him. His half brother, cradling a green mug in his dark hands, sat down on the arm of Will's chair. They both watched with eyes like hawks as Nico scooped up his mug. Will knew that Ama was trying to ascertain his medical condition, but he was just staring because... reasons. Nico's dark eyes were indifferent to the clinical stares; he looked at Will and, almost deliberately, said, "Thank you, Will."

Taken slightly aback, he replied, "Yeah, no problem."

"Is coffee okay for urgent care patients?" Amadou mused.

The boy shrugged. "Guess we'll find out." He took a sip.

Will bit back a curse. What if black coffee aided in wiping Nico out from existence? Then he realized he was being stupid. Then he realized he was being smart. After all, pomegranate seeds bound Persephone to the Underworld. Why couldn't coffee? "Nico–"

He lowered his mug. "Will Solace, do not take this beautiful cup of beauty away from me."

Will huffed. "Fine. But I'm taking your temperature after this." He paused. "Also, ambrosia."

Nico looked at Ama. "Is he always like this?"

"He is not always like this," laughed his little brother. "But this one time, when I had Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever–"

"Ama, Nico does _not_ need to know that story."

"I think Nico does need to know that story," Nico said, leaning forward.

Will spent the next five minutes hiding behind his cup of Lady Grey, steadily growing scarlet as Amadou recounted his medical misadventures to the most powerful living demigod in the world.

"Oh, this other time–"

The sound of a door shutting echoed through the hall, "Brother," Will interrupted. "I think someone's here."

And then his savior, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, guys, have you seen Annabeth?"

Will rubbed his right eye. "Didn't see her crossing the green. Ama?"

"Um." Amadou fingered his twists nervously. He once confessed to Will that he thought Rachel was the prettiest girl on the planet. "I, ah, don't know."

Her green eyes landed on the patient. "Nico?"

He sipped his coffee indifferently. "I've been locked in here for three days; I got nothing."

"Weird. Malcolm said she didn't come back to the Athena cabin last night."

"Check Percy's cabin," Will quipped.

The oracle and the son of Hades stared at him.

He half raised his hands. "What? Maybe they pulled an all-night study session. Maybe they're planning a prank. Maybe–"

"Will." Nico said. "Stop. Talking."

"What?"

"Yup, that's definitely my cue to leave." Rachel said airily. "Bye, guys."

She excused herself. His little brother looked disappointed, but also confused. "What is wrong with studying?"

"Holy-Hades-it-is-too-early-for-this-bullshit," Nico groaned.

Will coughed and reprimanded him. "Language."

"Oh my gods, dude, you're literally talking about the you-know-what in front of your kid brother."

Ama frowned. "I am no kid."

"Darn right, you're not." To Nico: "And sex is alright. Ama already knows about sex."

Amadou's eyes widened. "Oh, that's what you were talking about?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I do hope Percy has condoms. Unprotected sex is not safe."

"Don't worry. I think I saw him at the communal rubber bin last week."

Now it was Nico's turn to hide behind a coffee mug. "Ohmigods, can we please talk about _anything_ else?"

"We can talk about that one time when Will–"

"No no no, better idea. How about Amadou,"–he cast a meaningful look in his direction–"goes to help Rachel in her search, while me and Nico talk about the history of rap music and coffee."

Amadou brightened. "Will you cover my shift?"

"Yeah, don't worry. Nico can help me."

"I can?"

His little brother tore off his doctor's coat. "I'll go change!" He dashed out of the room, then backpedaled back in. "Also, I think it's more of a girl's day."

"Okay. Bye, Ajaratu."

"Bye!"

He tore down the hallway. Will smiled and sipped his tea.

"Wait," Nico said. "I thought his name was Amadou."

Oh, boy. Will sighed. "So my kid sibling identifies as genderfluid, which basically means that my kid sibling flip-flops between boy and girl. Sometimes my kid sibling feels like a girl, uses girl pronouns, and the name my kid sibling was given, Ajaratu. Other times, my kid sibling feels like a boy, uses boy pronouns, and the name Amadou."

"Wait, that doesn't make any sense. I thought to be a boy, you had to have–you know…"

"What, Nico. What do you have to have in order to be a boy?" The kid was pretty cute when he was embarrassed.

"Um…" He squirmed. "I thought to be a boy, you had to, uh, have a… penis."

"Well, Deathboy–"

"_Deathboy_?"

"–past evidence would suggest so, but more recent studies have shown that gender is more of a head issue, whereas sex–by which I mean genitals–is pretty much irrelevant in determining gender. Ajaratu was born biologically female, but her gender is what her brain chooses."

"I thought gender and sex were interchangeable. They are in Italian."

"Well, this isn't Italy," he said, setting down his tea.

Will thought that this would spark an argument for sure. The kid grew up in an era where gay, Roma, and Jewish people were being carted off to concentration camps. Most of his life had been spent either in a Fascist regime or with dead people. Nico di Angelo was probably as bigoted as his late grandpa. He braced himself for the worst.

But he just shrugged. "Okay."

"Really? That's not weird?"

The son of Hades drained the rest of his coffee, then dropped the mug onto the table. "Will Solace, I'm the son of an immortal being whose peers include a bunch of murderous demigods and a couple of undergrown goat-men. It takes a lot more than that to weird me out."

Silence.

"Okay, we can be friends again. But don't think I'll forget what you said about Kendrick Lamar."

Nico laughed, which was good to hear. "I won't. And, um, speaking of music… since you showed me a song you liked yesterday, I was wondering if, well… if I could show you a song I like."

"Yeah, sure! Lemme grab the laptop…"

"Well, actually," Nico stood, swaying like a pine tree in a hurricane. He pointed to the turntable in front of him. "I think that you may have it on one of your records. May I?"

Will nodded. He trudged forward and picked up the record sleeve on the top of the stack. The giant yellow banana on the cover was difficult to miss, as was Will's audible groan.

Nico glanced back, concern on his face. "Oh, do you not like this one?"

Sigh. "No, no, it's fine. Go ahead."

"Alright." Swiftly, as if he had done it all his life, the boy replaced Moany Man with The Velvet Underground & Nico. He dropped the needle near the middle of the record. Soft, vibrating chords flowed out of the speakers.

_"Here she comes… You better watch your step…"_

The son of Hades collapsed onto his chair, limbs limp. "I don't really remember where I heard this song, or even when, but I really like it. It reminds me of–"

"–rain?" Will interrupted.

Nico tilted his head to the right, meeting Will's eyes. "Precisely."

"'Sunday Morning' is kind of like that, too."

"I haven't heard that one yet."

"Be glad you haven't. I like the Velvet Underground, but they get pretty tiring after a bit. Good choice, though."

He smiled. "Thank you."

"By the way–" he leaned over the arm of his chair, "–you do know that the lead singer's name is Nico, right?"

Nico–the real Nico, the son of Hades, the boy in front of hi–well, anyways, his eyes widened in mock surprise. "Oh my gods, so is mine!"

Will chuckled. "She did a lot of heroin."

"Oh my gods, so do I!"

"Nico!"

"What?"

They spent most of the morning microwaving frozen waffles and talking about Nas and SeaWorld (among other things), with the old record filling in the gaps in conversation. Will was certain that Velvet Underground would drive him off the brink, but, much to his surprise, it didn't. In fact, the album was almost enjoyable that day. Being in the company of someone who had never heard it before allowed for a lot more appreciation. He found himself tapping his foot or even singing along every now and then. Sometimes Nico would catch him doing that and smile slyly.

"I thought you said you didn't like this album."

Will mimicked Nico. "'I never said that!'"

"Oh, shut up."

"You first."

Will grinned. Maybe it didn't cure all, but three days of bedrest did wonders.

* * *

><p><strong>i have this headcanon that will started drinking earl grey after dating a kid from wales for two weeks. mainly bc that happened to me lmao<strong>

**i also have a headcanon that the apollo kids have a secret communal condom bin hidden in the armory, purpling laws be damned****. i mean christ if these kids are clever enough to defeat gaia and her freaky-deek babies then they should be clever enough to find some hole where they can do the do w/o being bugged by harpies. may as well make demigod sex safe.**

**((but srsly. use condoms. or dental dams. or birth control. safe sex is important.))**

**also wow! thanks for the follows and faves, y'all. feel free to drop a review below; i love reading yr comments (︶ω︶)**


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